


No More Monsters

by ruffboi



Series: ruffboi's Witcher Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Brief suicidal thoughts, But only a little, Collars, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sexual Slavery, Warlord Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whumptober 2020, inspired by other people's fics, loosely, not from the POV character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/pseuds/ruffboi
Summary: When Geralt leads his army into Tretogor, they expect most of what they find.What theydon'texpect is the near-silent, trembling figure they find tucked against the wall in Radovid's rooms after Eskel runs a sword through the bastard's throat.---Written for Whumptober 2020
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: ruffboi's Witcher Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950043
Comments: 22
Kudos: 476





	No More Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 02 - "collars"
> 
> loosely inspired by inexplicifics' Accidental Warlord series, and like four other fics sprouting off hers. I love this trope y'all.

When Geralt leads his army into Tretogor, they expect most of what they find. Common folk in the streets starving, rich folk barricading their nice homes to keep out looters and witchers alike, a palace full of unhappy servants more than willing to point the witchers in the right direction, too many guards who won't stand down, and nobles incensed that the witcher army would _dare_ come here.

What they don't expect, though in retrospect it's all too unsurprising, is the near-silent, trembling figure they find tucked against the wall in Radovid's rooms after Eskel runs a sword through the bastard's throat.

It's a young man, naked but for a leather collar, his legs folded up against his chest either in an attempt to preserve his dignity or to make himself smaller and maybe hard to notice. The fact that he's here, that he didn't make a sound as they murdered Radovid, the fact that Radovid's scent is clearly, as Geralt steps cautiously towards him, all over him...

Well. It's not really a mystery why Radovid had him here.

Geralt crouches a few feet away, trying to make himself look smaller and less threatening. The young man's eyes are shut, and he lets out a shaky breath.

"Please, just kill me," he whispers, his plea almost too soft to hear. "Please, please, please..."

"You want to _die_?" Geralt asks uncertainly.

The young man hesitates, and looks up at Geralt uncertainly. His eyes are _so_ blue, peering through the brown hair falling over his brow, that Geralt nearly can't breathe for a moment.

"I'd... I'd rather..." he starts, then swallows hard and looks away. "I'd rather not trade one master for another," he says finally, grimacing like he knows he'll be punished for saying such a thing.

Geralt hears Eskel suck in a sharp breath behind him and curse quietly before directing most of the remaining witchers to help their brothers, or the mages, or be _anywhere but here_.

"That's... not why we're here," Geralt says after a moment. "You're free to go. Get your things, return home."

The young man laughs, high and humorlessly. " _Home_?" he asks. "I don't have one anymore. Might as well kill me anyway, then."

Geralt presses his lips together, and glances helplessly at Eskel, who shrugs. Neither of them have any experience with things like this, nor any ideas on how to help.

"You could come with us, then," Geralt says. The young man stiffens, a fresh wave of fear rolling off him, and Geralt hastily adds, "As... as a person? We could find you work. Real work, not... No one would touch you without your permission," he finishes awkwardly.

He looks back, first at Geralt, then at Eskel. He looks suspicious and still smells terrified, but there's a spark of something like hope kindling in his eyes.

"You _swear_ no one will touch me?" he asks.

"I swear," Geralt says firmly. "And if they try, they'll answer to me for the crime."

The young man nods slowly, and pushes himself to his feet. Geralt stands and looks away, unhooking his cloak and holding it behind him to provide some sense of privacy.

"Thank you," the young man says softly, and he's swamped by Geralt's cloak when Geralt turns back around, but he looks and smells less frightened and fragile with that small bit of dignity afforded him.

"I'll make sure everyone's wrapping up," Eskel says, and leaves the room, with Radovid's head in tow, the door standing open behind him. The young man watches the open doorway with an odd expression on his face, as if he can't quite believe that it's there, that he can walk through it and be free of this place.

"What's your name?" Geralt asks, hoping to distract him.

"Jaskier," he answers.

"All right, Jaskier," Geralt says. "Do you want me to take the collar off?"

Jaskier's hand flies up to brush his fingers lightly over the collar, a grimace twisting his features.

"More than anything," he says, his shoulders slumping. "But it's been enchanted. Radovid was the only one who could take it off." He shudders, and pulls in on himself for a long moment before squaring his shoulders. "Well," he says, resigned, and something twists painfully in Geralt's chest. "It's not the only _gift_ of his I won't be able to be rid of."

"We have mages," Geralt offers. "Powerful ones. I can't imagine they couldn't find a way to undo the enchantment."

Jaskier looks up at him, bewildered, then shakes his head slightly. "You are... nothing like I expected. I think I almost believe you when you say things like that."

"I guess I'll have to keep following up on them until you believe me, then," Geralt says, at a loss for how else to respond.

Jaskier smiles - it's tense and small, but sincere, and Geralt thinks in that moment that he would do anything to draw it out wider and truer, as often as possible.

"I guess you will," he says, and looks back to the doorway, yearning. "Can we..." he starts, then stops, then seems to realize that theoretically, he's allowed to say whatever he wants, now that Radovid is dead. "Can we go now?" he asks softly, hopefully.

"Yeah," Geralt says firmly. "We can go now." He reaches out to put a hand between Jaskier's shoulder blades, to help guide him, then thinks better of it and pulls his hand back. "Follow me, and we'll get you somewhere safe," he says, then turns and starts walking.

He's relieved to hear Jaskier's soft, padding footsteps behind him.

"Do you have anything you want to collect before we meet up with the rest of them?" he asks, and is answered immediately by a disdainful snort.

"What little I was allowed to have, I'd rather burn," Jaskier says, his voice dark and thick with emotion. Geralt nods understanding. They'd have to get him clothes, then. Tools for any trade he may have learned before his... _time_ with Radovid. Boots.

Jaskier hesitated, as the corridor opened onto the great hall, where the witchers had gathered and Yen and Sabrina were opening portals back to Kaer Morhen for most of the forces, but for the small detachment who would stay to ensure a smooth transfer of power to someone who could truthfully swear fealty to the White Wolf. Geralt stopped and turned back to him with a concerned frown, taking in the way Jaskier's fingers slipped out from the cloak to worry at the edges of it.

"You _swear_ ," he says finally, not managing to tear his eyes away from the part of the room he could see. Geralt could smell his rising anxiety, hear the way his heartbeat kicked up, even if the tremble in his voice hadn't already given him away. He didn't need to finish the thought for Geralt to understand.

"I swear," Geralt affirms. "You're under the White Wolf's protection. No one will touch you without your consent, unless your life is in danger."

Jaskier finally looks back at Geralt, and seems to find something in his expression reassuring, because the anxiety recedes somewhat, and he nods.

"Okay," he says finally. "Okay."

Then he steps forward into the witcher-filled hall, and Geralt follows after him, shocked into silence by his strength and trust.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [bygodstillam](http://bygodstillam.tumblr.com)  
> discord: ruffboi#9097
> 
> come say hi! :)


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